


Things That Surprise You

by zeitgeistic (faire_weather)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Betrayal, Dark Mark, Death Eaters, Death References, Gen, Of course Peter can return a lousy library book, Oh my dark lord the irony, Peter don't even care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-15
Updated: 2006-08-15
Packaged: 2017-10-17 14:50:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/178011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faire_weather/pseuds/zeitgeistic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter wasn't weak, he was just tired. This was a character study of Peter Pettigrew and his betrayal. Features a kindred spirit in Snape and a shin-kicking Yaxley.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things That Surprise You

Peter had never been a  _strong_ person, per se, but he didn’t think he was all that  _weak_  either. He couldn’t have been, really, to survive seven years hanging out with wizards like _them._

“Oh come on, Wormtail, do you have to be such a ninny about it?”

James, obviously, disagreed. Peter looked at him, holding out the bottle and grinning smugly at him. He knew that Peter wasn’t going to take it, so he had to make a scene about it. He had to show—to prove—that Peter was weak. James was drunk and Sirius wasn’t far off. Where had Remus gotten to?

Peter wasn’t weak, he was just tired.

He was exhausted, really. He was tired of the constant pressure and James and Sirius’ smug knowledge that he wasn’t _like_  them. And he wasn’t like Remus either.

“I don’t want to, James.” 

That should’ve been enough. It should have, but it wasn’t. It was such a stupid thing to row over anyway. He just didn’t want to get drunk, but he got the feeling that James didn’t trust him to be sober when James himself was not. It was not Peter’s fault, no matter what anyone said, what Sirius got up to when James was too inebriated to realize what was going on. 

Instead of frowning, James’ smug grin only grew. He looked over his shoulder at Sirius, winked, and turned back to Peter.

“Knew you were too much of a nancy to do it.”

Peter sneered.

“One day, Wormy,” James continued, “you’re going to have to learn to be a man. Stick up for yourself.” And that only proved how pissed James really was because as far as Peter was concerned, it made _zero_ sense.

“The only people I have to stick up for myself around are the two of you,” Peter snapped. He walked away, shutting the door—softly—behind him, and didn’t look back.

\--

Peter wasn’t weak. He  _couldn’t_  have been to be initiated—and he _had_  been initiated. His arm still burned, and he winced just by looking at it. It _hurt_  just by looking at it, but he wasn’t weak because even  _Sirius_  couldn’t have withstood what he had just now. Peter stared down at the Mark on his arm, clenched his fist as it burned, and wondered if this was what James had meant every time he told Peter to stick up for himself.

Peter didn’t think so, but he wasn’t a fool and he wasn’t stupid, and he’d tried to read between the lines. It was all semantics, really.

Peter had a  _plan_. It wasn’t fool-proof, but Peter wasn’t a fool, so there wasn’t really a need to have a plan safe from fools: only a plan safe from himself. He wasn’t sure it was safe against that either.

The ironic thing about it all was that the plan had no desired outcome. No one would benefit from this either way, except Peter. He didn’t need anyone else’s support, but it would be nice to have his own. So he was going to do this—he was going to be a Death Eater because he couldn’t think of a reason _not to._

Because he was sticking up for  _himself_ , in some round about way: he was proving to himself that he wasn’t weak. The Dark Lord did not accept weak people into his ranks. Peter had been accepted, Peter was not weak, and the plan had been fulfilled. 

He had no idea what to do now. 

So Peter stood, looked around at the gathered Death Eaters warily, and returned to his place. Yaxley—who was an idiot—elbowed him roughly. Peter ignored it—Yaxley was nothing.

\--

“They have made you their Secret Keeper?”

Peter hesitated, not because he was having second thoughts, but because the irony of it was just too much for him. He wanted to laugh; he wanted to share the joke with his lord, but he didn’t think He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named (even by Death Eaters) would find it as funny as Peter did.

But he  _could_  be wrong—it might have been the exact sort of thing You-Know-Who got off on—irony. James had never even trusted him with keeping the Map safe when they weren’t using it, and now he trusted him to be their Secret Keeper? He hadn’t trusted Peter to successfully retrieve food from the kitchens without getting caught or even return a library book. And he trusted him now. Of all times. Peter bit his lip.

Peter was no Occlumens: if the Dark Lord really wanted to see why he was hesitating, he could look for himself. He smiled, because it was just too funny not to, and lifted his eyes.

“Yes, Milord.”

And he told him. _The Potter residence can be found at 17 Green Street, Godric’s Hollow, England._

“Excellent,” the Dark Lord hissed. Peter thought for a moment that the Dark Lord might clap his hands in excitement, but he didn’t. He was dismissed, and he stood outside the door contemplating for several minutes before he finally disapparated.

\--

The wards shattered like glass. Peter would have thought that at least Dumbledore would have reinforced them, but Dumbledore had always had his own agenda, and Peter had never been a confidante. Probably for the best.

He stood outside and ruminated that it really wasn’t as cold as it ought to have been for the last day of October. Yaxley—who had always been a heady mix of cruel, vindictive and mad as a hatter, even in school—kicked his shin. Peter couldn’t think of a reason why Yaxley would have done this, except that it was Yaxley, and Yaxley was just a fool.

The cottage windows shattered, Lily screamed, and Yaxley coughed.

“Aren’t you going to ask me why I did that?” 

Peter looked at him. “I know why.” And he did, of course. Yaxley was just an idiot: he did that kind of thing all the time. Peter gave him a bland smile.

“It’s because I don’t like you, Pettigrew,” Yaxley sneered anyway. Peter raised his eyebrows mockingly. This was  _not_ , no matter what Yaxley thought, news to him. He turned back, the Dark Lord  _Alohomora’d_  the door, and Peter frowned.

They couldn’t even use a stronger locking charm? Had James really trusted him so much that he simply  _Colloportus’d_  the door? That was insane—Peter would not have trusted  _anyone_  that much. 

“You should learn to stick up for yourself, Pettigrew,” someone hissed behind him. He whirled around, vaguely startled, and faced Snape—who he had never liked, really, but hadn’t disliked either. Snape was a non-entity to him like every other person he had gone to school with. He didn’t think he would have even known Snape’s name if James and Sirius hadn’t taken such a  _liking_  to him.

Snape was sneering at him, and Peter couldn’t for the life of him figure out why Snape would care whether or not he stood up for himself.

James yelled—Peter couldn’t make out the words—Lily sobbed and the baby cried. Peter felt thankful that he hadn’t gotten a better chance to get to know the baby. This would have been so much harder to do if it wasn’t just another nameless child. Of course, this one wasn’t really nameless, per se, Peter just couldn’t remember it offhand.

A flash of green light flared from inside the house. James stopped yelling.

“Who do I need to stick up for myself around now, Snape?” Peter asked quietly. “Certainly not Yaxley.”

Yaxley growled indignantly, but Snape understood. Peter could see the recognition in his face: in the way that his narrow eyes widened so faintly and the tense line of his lips parted slightly in surprise. Peter smiled at him: Snape probably understood better than anyone.

“Everyone thinks Black is the Secret Keeper,” Snape continued. He could have been discussing the weather.

Peter nodded absently. “Yes—yes, they do, don’t they?”

There was another flash of green light, and then silence. And then burning: flames licked up from all corners of the cottage, slowly enveloping it and staining their faces in orange light. And Peter watched, and Snape watched, and Yaxley kicked Peter’s shin again.


End file.
